


Tilt

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you can actually find love on Valentine's Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tilt

## Tilt

by Cinel Durant

These characters belong to PetFly Productions and UPN. No promises were made, and no profit will be realized. As usual, just a little honest adoration.

Originally published in Indigo Boys 6. My thanks to the editor of that zine, April Valentine, and to my betas--Diana and Anne.

Just barely a Valentine's Day story.

* * *

When I found him, he was sitting in front of the doors to the balcony. Curled in on himself, legs up, ankles crossed: there wasn't much tension about him. His arms were draped loosely over his knees and his gaze was fixed beyond the glass door to the world outside. Woolgathering, I suppose. I dropped my things in their usual places and stood still a minute, looking him over. 

He seemed okay, and when he tossed out a 'hi' I knew from the evenness of his voice that he was. 

But I went over anyway. He looked up at me and I felt silly, standing over him even more than I usually tower over him, so I eased down to sit next to him, kind of angled to his right, and looked out to see what it was he was seeing. 

The view was unchanged, except for the raindrops that magnified bits and pieces of it. It was raining again in Cascade. The loft was warm and dusk was just settling in, casting a transitional glow over everything. Some lights shone, some hadn't been turned on. The sky had a slight glow of color from the sun, faint evidence of its valiant attempt to burn off some of the day's haze. 

I turned at the sound of Blair drawing a deep breath to find him watching me. There was open curiosity, a normal look for him where I was concerned, and nothing else. I would have turned back to the view, or gotten up to see about . . . something . . . dinner? . . . a beer? . . . except for that twitch I wasn't supposed to see. Literally wasn't supposed to see. Only God knew how many other people in the world _would_ have seen it. The muscle barely moved, but I caught it. 

Whether or not _he_ felt it was impossible to know, although I suspect he was all too aware of it. The half-smile that followed used the same side of his mouth, and it was hard to believe it was coincidence. Blair's self-preservation skills are too finely honed to leave that to coincidence. Especially the skills he uses on me. 

The ones he doesn't think I know he has. But he does. And I do. 

The longer we stayed this way, the more my coming home to find him sitting on the floor gazing out at Cascade seemed natural. But this is my partner we're talking about. What had to be bothering him, was that I just came in and sat down next to him without a word, not a word. Oh, I'd said 'hi' right back to him, but nothing since. 

You might think we were waiting for something, but that wouldn't actually be true either. I didn't expect Blair to say anything to me; what he expected of me . . . it was hard to know. He wasn't saying. I could have scanned him from head to toe with my senses, but I don't like invading his privacy that way. 

It had been a not-so-average day in Major Crime. Not many calls. The ones I had were actually minor enough that I finished all the paperwork before leaving for the day. I didn't draw my gun the entire day. It was the kind of day most cops could use more of. 

Don't for a minute think that stopped me from enjoying the rather unusual scene that greeted me once I reached home. I enjoy being home even when work goes just fine because I enjoy being here with Blair. And that's true no matter what state he's in when I get here. But what state _was_ this? It wasn't the stillness of the loft, or his silence, or the fact that he was sitting on the floor. Or that he didn't have a book near him or the music on. In fact, I didn't know what the heck it was. But I knew I _wanted_ to know. 

I looked back to the balcony and the buildings across the street outlined against the darkening sky. Blair's eyes were still on me, I could feel them. They were frank but calm when I met them again. 

This time there was more to see. He was holding out a hand to me, palm up. His arm extended until it almost brushed my leg. It was steady as I took it in mine but it didn't stay that way. I made sure of that. Nor could I help smiling when Blair's eyes widened just as he realized that I meant to pull him across the floor. He slid easily, his sock-clad feet slipping out from under him. I opened my legs and settled him against me before wrapping my arms around him and closing him in. 

He gasped then froze when I fumbled for the band holding his hair and eased it off. But my stomach was in my throat when he curled himself forward over his knees. He stopped there, and I guess I could have been grateful for that if it hadn't felt like the retreat it was. It hurt. I didn't want his retreat, I never had. Not then, or when he'd been in my face about dials and attention spans. Whether he pushed me all the time because he understood this or because he was just too stubborn to back off -- who knew? It definitely wasn't information I was privy to. I had a theory, but they call them theories for a reason. Right now, it was useless. 

Just my being there might have been enough for him, except it wasn't enough for me. I rolled forward until I was leaning over him, cradling him, until there was no place for him to go. I wanted that to be the ultimatum it was; not a threat, but an unequivocal act on my part that he could chose to accept or reject. But not ignore. I wanted him to be where I'd been for months, surrounded by the power of an 'us' I could no longer defy. 

From what I'd learned about him, I was sure the Blair Sandburg I'd met three years ago would have been long gone before this point. But this one had stayed, this was his home. Was he thinking of that now as he began to relax? I met the hand that reached for mine and squeezed it gently before joining our fingers. It seemed safe to do so -- at last -- so I brushed my face against the softness of his hair. This smell was one of the best things in my life, and singularly responsible for more of my daydreams than anything else. Thank God he didn't know. 

He started to laugh then, just a soft, deep rumble and I knew I'd been discovered. 

"Wanna get more comfortable?" I asked, encouraged by his laughter. It seemed to loosen something inside him. 

"Don't you dare move," he said just sharply enough. 

"Sorry, Chief, but we're moving." 

"No, Jim--" 

I tipped to my left and eased us down sideways without letting him go. 

"Oh," he said, when what he wanted to say was 'you shit' for making him plead in the first place. 

He shifted closer and we arranged ourselves. My arm pillowed his head, his feet came back, and my legs tucked neatly behind his. I felt around behind me for the pillow I hoped was in reach, snagged it, and wedged it underneath my head. Blair grabbed my hand and brought it around to rest on his abdomen. 

Perfect. Blair and me. Perfect. 

I counted his breaths, it was my own personal form of meditation. After number sixty-two he spoke. 

"You gonna want dinner soon, Jim?" 

"Not soon, no." 

"It's my turn," he said. 

"I haven't forgotten, Chief." 

"You'll have to let me up." 

Testing, he was always testing. 

"Maybe." If I'd said 'never' that would have scared him. 

There were thirty more exhalations before he said, "Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Damn, man." 

"No kidding," I answered softly. 

I let my hand slide over his shirt until it came to rest over his heart. The city was completely dark now, lights glinting out of several windows and off the river. The rain had stopped. 

But the view, the view was no longer unchanged. 

~End~ 

* * *

End Tilt by Cinel Durant: cineld@yahoo.com

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